


The Lost Boy

by telera



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Angst, Breeding, Cannibalism, Childhood Trauma, Dark, Dystopia, Horror, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Infant Death, Killing, Knotting, M/M, Medical Procedures, Minor Character Death, Mpreg, Murder Suit, Mutilation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Explicit, Past Rape/Non-con, Stillbirth, Underage Mpreg, Vivisection, alpha/alpha beahviour, and murder companions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-03-26 09:43:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3846205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telera/pseuds/telera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a dystopian AU where omega strays are a public health problem, an alpha doctor meets a little lost boy...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The smell of omega rottenness made Hannibal wrinkle his nose. His house was one of the most elegant in the wealthy alpha suburb, yet still the scent of omega pheromones reached him. The Omega Control Van must have driven around the neighbourhood recently, Hannibal thought as he caught a whiff of acrid sweat and heat fluids. The new mayor had promised to keep the growing population of omega strays at bay, and this was just one of the many visible steps he had taken to secure reelection next year.

 

Hannibal scoffed at the idea. As an alpha doctor, he knew the packs of homeless omega boys roaming the streets would not disappear simply because a few vans were on patrol. The kids would always find ways to hide from the government, and they would get better at it. Especially since the price for getting caught was immediate and effective necrofication. Stray omega kids were necrofied by the dozen every day, meaning euthanized so that their vital organs could be harvested for alpha use.

 

The program had began almost a century ago, and it had been refined over the years with new scientific advances. Now the big pharmaceutical companies marketed their “natural, omega certified products” as the ultimate cure for the shameful disease of alpha impotency, and eager alphas everywhere consumed pills and shakes manufactured from the heart and liver of some unlucky omega kid, who ended on the necrofication table of the omega kennel for being poor, hungry and homeless.

 

Hannibal knew all about it. Mischa had been one of those kids.

 

The memories knotted painfully in Hannibal’s throat, who swallowed hard wondering why the persistent, sticky smell in his garden refused to disappear. He put the house keys back in his pocket and inspected the fenced garden with a frown. Hannibal was tired after a long day listening to the rants of young alpha teenagers entering their first rut, but he would find the origin of the sickly scent. A few trembling leaves gave away whatever it was that was hiding behind the rose bush, and when Hannibal parted the branches he found a dirty ball of smelly rags curled on the ground. He couldn’t believe that there was a boy under the heap of flea ridden shreds, yet there he was. Pale, skinny and malnourished, his ribs stuck out from his body when he rolled on his back to expose his naked belly in a gesture of complete omega submissiveness. The boy splayed his legs in the presence of the strong alpha, something that omegas only did when they were pregnant. And sure enough, the boy’s plump belly indicated no less. He must have been bred and knotted during his first heat, and judging from his bone structure, he couldn’t be older than twelve.

 

Hannibal stood pensive, and for a moment he didn’t know what to do. His hands itched to strangle the unlucky stray right there, a merciful killing that would be preferable to the necrofication procedure. There were hundreds like this boy on the streets, used by some alpha and abandoned when it was obvious the kid got knocked up in his first heat. Most died during labour, and the pups didn’t survive a single night. How this boy had ended up in Hannibal’s garden was a mystery. That, and the look of utter horror in his eyes, stayed the doctor’s hand.

 

‘Please, sir’ he whispered, and a life of agony resonated in that innocent and childish word. _Please_.

 

Hannibal was about to ask the boy what his name was, but he thought better of it. Better not to grow too attached to him. He picked the kid up in his arms and caressed his forehead, determined to take him home at least for the night. He’d do him this kindness, and maybe in that way Hannibal could end this day of Mischa’s forty-first birthday with a lesser ache in his heart.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of miscarriage, stillbirth and implicit abortion in this chapter.

As he took the kid upstairs, Hannibal heard his little stomach rumbling. The boy must be starving, but if he had survived this far, he could sure wait until he was washed clean to eat something. Hannibal ran him a bath and added an improvised mixture of antiseptics that would kill any external parasites and heal the many scratches and abrasions on his skin.

 

When the bath was ready, Hannibal moved his finger in a silent command for the boy to strip. He was trembling scared in the middle of the lavish bathroom, but he obeyed the alpha’s unspoken order immediately. An omega had no business hiding his body from an alpha, especially when he was carrying alpha seed inside, so Will stripped in front of the doctor and stepped into the bathtub without trying to hide his nakedness. Hannibal assessed the little body quickly, frowning at a few ugly scars on the boy’s back and thighs. There seemed to be no broken bones, though, so he uncapped a bottle of shower gel and indicated that Will wash himself.

 

The boy did so, awkwardly, running the washcloth up and down his limbs and watching as the water got dark with dirt and muck. He tried to wash his hair, but after a while it was obvious that he couldn’t untangle his matted curls. Hannibal moved to his side and examined his head to find lice nested in the boy’s hair, some dead, others still alive. Logic dictated that Hannibal shaved his head, but when he got his shaving machine and a razor, the kid started to cry. That shouldn’t have deterred Hannibal, after all a full head shave was the most hygienic course of action in a case like this, but after a moment of consideration, he decided against it. Omega hair was one of the several by-products alphas used to enrich the diet of lactating omegas, and the boy must know it. Hannibal sighed and walked to the bathroom cabinet to get a pair of scissors and a brush. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and knelt by the tub, and after a long while he managed to untangle the boy’s hair and trim it nicely. He had no lice lotion, but a solution of cologne with a few drops of tea tree oil would work until the morning. He was rubbing it into the boy’s scalp when he heard him say:

 

‘Why do you help me if you won’t talk to me?’

 

Hannibal considered the boy for a long moment. There was no defiance in his tone, just fear and confusion. And he had a good point.

 

‘What’s your name?’ he asked and last, and the boy lowered his head to whisper:

 

‘Will, sir’.

 

Hannibal finished rubbing his scalp in silence, then handed him a robe.

 

‘Dry yourself off while I get you some clothes. Then we’ll go to the kitchen for dinner’.

 

*

 

The boy looked like a different person now, clean and dressed in one of Hannibal’s old shirt and pants. They were too big for him, of course, and as he finished preparing a quick protein scramble, Hannibal thought of his little sister, who used to dress up like him and put on his big shoes when they were little.

 

‘Look at me Anniba’ Mischa used to laugh ‘I’m _you_!’

 

Hannibal suppressed the memory as he poured Will a glass of orange juice and set the dinner dish in front of him.

 

‘It’s not poisoned’ he said as the boy wouldn’t eat. His stomach was rumbling noisily again, who knew how many days he had gone without eating, yet still the boy looked at the food and did nothing. Hannibal thought that he was instinctively waiting for the alpha to eat first, so he cut a few slivers of parmesan cheese to begin the dinner when Will asked:

 

‘Will it kill my pups?’

 

Hannibal frowned in surprise. Of course, the thought of lacing the food with a potent abortive had crossed his mind, but Will couldn’t know.

 

‘No’ he replied slowly ‘The eggs and bacon are safe to eat’.

 

‘But _he_ said… _He_ said if I ate alpha food the litter would die’.

 

The kid’s mouth was positively watering now, and Hannibal imagined him garbage picking and eating animal fodder to survive. He had once feasted on stale breakfast cereal for months. Mischa was already gone by then.

 

‘That’s not true’ Hannibal said clenching his jaw at the obvious alpha lie ‘You need to feed yourself in order to nourish your pups. Whoever said that to you was… wrong’.

 

Hannibal served himself a bit of the egg scramble of the frying pan to prove his point, forgetting the beef ragoût he had prepared earlier for his dinner. The meat would keep well in the fridge until tomorrow, when the boy was gone.

 

‘Bon appétit’ he said giving the first bite, and a split second later the boy started to eat with ravenous hunger. He wiped his dish clean in only a few minutes, and Hannibal served him the rest of the eggs and bacon that remained on the frying pan. He cut parmesan for Will as well, and gave him a bunch of grapes and two muffins for dessert. He had no milk, but an extra glass of juice did the trick.

 

‘Thank you, sir’ the boy said when the last crumbles of the blueberry muffins were gone from his dish ‘Thank you for…’ he trailed off, overwhelmed by the alpha’s generosity. His eyes filled with tears again, and he started to tremble, unsure of what came next.

 

‘My pleasure’ Hannibal muttered, and realized he meant it ‘I am Dr. Lecter, Will. Finish your juice and I’ll show you to your room’.

 

‘Thank you, Dr. Lecter’ Will muttered. He drank up the rest of the juice quickly, and Hannibal walked the boy upstairs in silence, guiding him to the guest room that was always ready at the end of the corridor.

 

‘Get on the bed and unbutton your shirt’ he instructed. Hannibal got his medical briefcase from the closet and sat by the boy’s side with some supplies. Will was sprawled on the bed submissively, exposing his swollen belly and tender nipples as he had done in the garden before.

 

‘This won’t hurt’ Hannibal said clicking his medical iPad to ultrasound sweep. He placed it over the boy’s belly and activated the beam, sweeping the plump abdomen a couple of times to get clear 3D pictures. There were four tiny pups in the litter, and three were already dead. That was a very common clinical complication when omegas this young got bred during their first heat, and although the fourth pup had the faintest of heartbeats, it wouldn’t probably make it. At first Hannibal thought that the boy's pregnancy was coming full term, but now he realized the abdominal distention was due to the dead pups and the growing risk of infection. There were no signs of imminent bleeding, so Will would have surely died of a septic miscarriage on the streets if Hannibal hadn’t found him.

 

‘Good evening’ he said dialing a number on his iPad ‘I am Dr. Lecter, please have an ER box ready for a D&C procedure. Patient is twelve years old, disowned omega, I’ll do the surgery myself. We’ll be there in twenty minutes, thank you’.

 

Hannibal tapped on the screen and sent the pictures to the perinatal nurses at the hospital, who would have everything ready as per his instructions. He then got a syringe from his briefcase and filled it with a dose of antibiotics and a mild sedative.

 

‘What’s—what’s happening?’ the boy breathed, and Hannibal realized he was deadly pale and cold with fear.

 

‘Will’ he said injecting him in the arm ‘You are suffering from dead pup syndrome. The litter is not viable, and you can’t deliver it. It is macerating inside you, and you’ll die unless—’ Hannibal stopped short at his choice of words ‘You need medical attention immediately’ he tried in a softer tone ‘A procedure to save your life’.

 

‘B-but but- my pups?’ the boy whimpered, and Hannibal caressed his cheek for comfort.

 

‘They don’t have a heartbeat, Will’ he said, and held his hand tight as the boy started to sob and tremble uncontrollably. Thankfully the sedative took effect in just a couple of minutes, and the boy couldn’t keep his eyes open for long. When he drifted off to sleep, Hannibal took him in his arms and headed towards the garage.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the tags for the full story have been updated!

‘Dr. Lecter, the patient is ready for necrofication’.

 

Hannibal frowned at the nurse who brought him the news. He had been signing some papers at the reception of the hospital, tiresome burocreacy for the irregular and unorthodox procedure he was about to perform. A D&C was deemed not only expensive, but also unnecessary, simply because if an omega needed the procedure due to a miscarriage, then his life was less than worthless. No alpha would ever impregnate an omega with fertility problems, and if these occurred at some point during the pregnancy, the omega was immediately disowned and necrofied. It was always easier -and cheaper- to find a better receptacle for alpha seed, a robust omega who would bear a healthy litter and continue the alpha bloodline.

 

‘I ordered a different procedure’ Hannibal said clenching his jaw, and the low growl of having his authority questioned made the nurse turn pale in an instant.

 

‘I’m sorry, Dr. Lecter, but the hospital protocol dictates that—’

 

‘Where is he?’ Hannibal hissed, and the nurse pointed to a green corridor to the left.

 

‘Necrofication room 4’.

 

Hannibal moved down the corridor in quick strides, and when he opened the door he entered an operating theatre in Lithuania forty one years ago. Mischa was on the operating table, alive and conscious, screaming for help as her old brother threw himself against the bars of an alpha cage. Hannibal watched it all in a blind, helpless rage, how his little sister was strapped down and vivisected, her organs taken for alpha consumption and the rest turned into kibble for nursing omegas. The butchers threw one of her ears to his cage when they were done, laughing and taunting him as they left for the weekend. Hannibal promised himself he wouldn’t eat the sick morsel, but after forty hours without food or water, he did.

 

‘Ah, Dr. Lecter’ the ER alpha doctor said ‘We were waiting for you, we have already started the vacuum aspiration and—’

 

Hannibal reached for one of the scalpels on the medical trolley and cut the doctor’s throat in a swift, clean slash. He slumped to the floor and bled to death in just a minute, gurgling as a thick flow of dark, sticky blood pooled around him. The nurse followed suit, her cries for help dying as her guts spilled to the floor.

 

Hannibal let out a shaky breath, and as he snapped out of his reverie, he surveyed the now blood stained room. The boy was lying on the necrofication table, unconscious and intubated, at least these days they used general anesthesia for omega procedures.

 

‘Will’ Hannibal panted, checking the monitors and his vital signs. The boy was fine, but the suction device was already half full with blood, omega tissue and uterine lining. Hannibal wouldn’t have allowed a rape litter to survive, even more so when the omega was a twelve year old child, and he was determined to terminate the still alive pup during the procedure. But at least Hannibal would have been careful enough as to not neuter the kid, making sure he wouldn’t have fertility problems in the future. Now that chance was probably lost, and as Hannibal rolled the medical stool to sit between the stretched legs of his boy, he pulled the vacuum tube out of Will’s overstretched opening and got the curette to try and fix this butchery.

 

*

 

Four hours later, Will was still unconscious from the anesthesia, but he was now cozily nested under the warm duvet of the guest room in Hannibal’s house. It had been easy to explain what had happened to the police officers who were called to the hospital after the incident. Rich and wealthy alphas got away with anything, always, and this time was no different.

 

‘I claimed this boy a couple of months ago’ Hannibal calmly lied, still drenched in blood but as cool and composed as always ‘The D&C procedure was scheduled to provide me with his fresh fluids for at least a month. The ER doctor had no business in touching what is _mine’_.

 

No further explanation was necessary, and Hannibal returned home with the boy a couple of hours later. Will would sleep well into the morning, and after tucking him in the best he could, Hannibal moved to the kitchen downstairs. He prepared a quick breakfast for himself, after all he’d been awake the whole night, and he needed a strong cup of coffee to put some order in his thoughts.

 

Hannibal still didn’t know where the boy came from, and how he had ended up behind the rose bush in his garden. Only time would tell if Will would be fertile in the future, because despite his best surgical efforts, the damage the kid had sustained on the necrofication table had been extensive. However, Will had proved extremely resilient so far, so Hannibal trusted his little body would recover to lead a normal, omega life in the years to come.

 

As he sipped his strong morning brew, Hannibal realized that’s what had drawn him to the boy. Will had survived, against all odds, when his one and only destiny was to die a hopeless death on the street. Unloved, forgotten and abused, his story was so common these days that nobody cared about it anymore.

 

Hannibal’s story had been Will’s, once. So had Mischa’s.

 

As he put his cup down, Hannibal realized Mischa’s birthday was over. It was the morning after already, and as a new day began, Hannibal knew he had a little charge to look after now. Upstairs in the guest room, peacefully sleeping as he started to heal from the traumatic events of his short life.

 

Hannibal knew the path to recovery would be long and difficult, but as he climbed the stairs to be by Will’s side when he woke up, Hannibal knew he wouldn’t fail this time.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking a short break now ^=^


	4. Chapter 4

A small whimper told Hannibal that Will was about to wake up. He had been reading on his iPad for the last hour, sitting on a chair by the boy’s bed and guarding his sleep. Hannibal had prepared some medicines and supplies on the bedside table, and as the boy opened his eyes, he moved to sit by his side on the bed.

 

‘You’re home, Will. And you’re safe. How do you feel?’

 

Will blinked twice and shuddered. His belly ached, and he felt nauseous.

 

‘I- where… is…’

 

‘Here’ Hannibal said bringing a glass of orange juice to Will’s lips ‘Take a sip, you’ll feel better’.

 

The boy frowned but obeyed, feeling the cool, refreshing liquid filling his mouth. Will suddenly realized that he was quite thirsty, so he took another sip, and another, until he finished half of the juice and groaned weakly. He slid his hand down to his belly, still swollen but now unaccountably empty.

 

‘Where are they?’ he whispered, and his voice trembled with emotion.

 

‘They’re gone, Will’ Hannibal said ‘They were already gone’.

 

Hannibal watched as the boy’s eyes brimmed with tears, and he brought a handkerchief to his nose.

 

‘Where are they buried?’ he sniffled, and the innocent question caught Hannibal by surprise. He gestured for Will to blow his nose, and when he did Hannibal started to prepare a dose of painkillers.

 

He couldn’t tell Will the half-formed and dead pups were being analyzed at this moment in a Pathology lab. A genetic analysis would yield the DNA of the alpha who had raped the boy, and although there were not many chances that the abusive alpha was in the medical databases, Hannibal would find him one way or another.

 

‘They’re not buried yet’ he said at last ‘We’ll bury them together when you feel better. By the rose bush in the garden. In that way, you’ll be able to visit them whenever you wish’.

 

The answer seemed to satisfy the boy, or so Hannibal thought. Will was softly crying into the pillow, and what his little mind was thinking there was no way to tell.

 

‘This will help you with the pain’ Hannibal said loading a syringe ‘You’ll feel cramps for a couple of days, but as long as there is no blood discharge or—’

 

‘I thought the roses would protect me’ Will whispered in a broken voice ‘When I jumped from the Omega Control Van. I thought that if I died there, I’d turn into a rose with petals and leaves but no worms or thorns. Do you think the roses will protect them, Dr. Lecter? My pups?’

 

Hannibal nodded, and managed a sad smile before injecting Will in his arm.

 

‘They’ll have different colours’ Will wheezed as Hannibal felt his forehead ‘Louise will be yellow, Toby red and… Are there green roses? I like green…’

 

The pain killer shot took effect swiftly, and Will drifted off to sleep amid his fevered dream. Hannibal caressed his short hair soothingly, amazed at how truly special this boy was. He had never found someone with such an extraordinary survival instinct, and who kept his childish innocence unspoiled despite all that he had gone through. Not even Mischa had been quite like little Will.

 

Hannibal knew he should get some rest himself- luckily it was Saturday and he was seeing no patients today, but the events of the night were taking its toll on him. However, Hannibal found that he couldn’t leave his boy alone. Will was safe and comfortable in bed, and he’d probably sleep a few hours now with the painkiller, but Hannibal wouldn’t leave his side. He put on his reading glasses and downloaded two papers on Adolescent Omega Infertility on his iPad. He told himself he would read them before Will woke up, but after only twenty minutes reading, Hannibal started to doze off and fell asleep on the chair.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More updated tags!!

Something startled Hannibal out of his nap, whether it was a sound or a dream he couldn’t tell. But when he opened his eyes, Will was not there. The bed was empty, the sheets were crumpled and the pillows scattered around, and the boy had gone.

 

‘Will!’ Hannibal gasped, but when he stood up he found him there, curled on the rug by his feet.

 

‘Will’ Hannibal frowned, but the boy only inched closer to him. He must be uncomfortable to say the least, lying on the floor like this, it hadn’t been 24 hours since the cutterage and his belly must still hurt despite the painkillers.

 

‘What are you doing, Will? Go back to bed’ he said, but the boy whimpered and clung to his ankle.

 

Hannibal sighed, too much aware of how the boy felt. He was behaving like the little omega pup he was, acknowledging Hannibal’s alpha position and relishing in the comfort and safety he offered. Lying by an alpha leader’s feet was common behavior in young omegas, and there was nothing wrong in it- actually, alphas pretty much encouraged it. But Hannibal wouldn’t have his boy lying on the rug, not after such an intrusive clinical procedure.

 

‘Will’ Hannibal said scooping him in his arms and putting him back to bed ‘You must rest and recover your strength’.

 

The boy seemed comforted by Hannibal’s caress, and lay quietly as he was tucked in.

 

‘I have some things to do now’ Hannibal explained looking at the clock on the bedside table, which showed it was 10:37 a.m. already ‘I’ll be back shortly, and…’ he thought for an activity that wouldn't be too stressful for his convalescent boy ‘I’ll read you a tale. Would you like that?’

 

Will nodded in silence, and Hannibal left the guest room clicking the door shut behind him. He would take a quick shower and go buy some groceries for lunch, maybe some ripe tomatoes and for quick and delicious lunch bruschettas. Then he’ll call his lawyer to sort out the boy’s legal status. Hannibal had said in his statement at the hospital that he had claimed the kid, so going through the technicalities of omega ownership should be easy. His friends and patients would probably be surprised that he had taken such a young concubine to sate his lust, but Hannibal didn’t care what they thought of it. He would only talk about what had really happened to Dr. Du Maurier, and not yet.

 

The warm spray of the shower fell on Hannibal’s back and he closed his eyes as the steam misted the shower screen. It had been some time since he had sought a rebellious boy to rut with. The last one had been one of his rich patients, and he had only lasted three days in his bed. Claiming an omega was out of the question for Hannibal, he wasn’t interested in bonding or in family. Subduing an arrogant young alpha was the ultimate challenge, though, something that only a true bred alpha like Hannibal could do- and enjoyed doing. The behavior was not unheard of in dominant, aggressive alphas, who established their authority overpowering upstart younglings and taking them down a notch in the pecking order. Mason had cried so beautifully when Hannibal knotted him, a first time that stretched his tight alpha hole to the limit. His mouth hadn’t been so cooperative, though, so Hannibal sliced the corners of his plump, pretty mouth until his strong, thick knot fitted snugly down his throat. Mason had loved the idea, at least at the time, high as he was on the potent hallucinogenic Hannibal had given him. The boy was still undergoing surgery and skin grafts, and had sworn revenge on the doctor who had made him fall lower than the worthless omegas that littered the streets. Hannibal expected his revenge would come any day now. And he couldn't really wait for the new challenge to begin.

 

A draft of cold air hit Hannibal when he slid the shower screen open, and he gasped as he found little Will curled on the shower mat. The boy had probably spent the whole time there, and Hannibal frowned as he put on his robe.

 

‘Will’ he warned, using the stern alpha tone that made his teenaged alpha patients shudder ‘I will not say it again. Go back to bed or I’ll have to tie you up to make sure you get your rest’.

 

The boy squealed in fear and crawled back to the door of the bathroom.

 

‘That’s what _he_ said… What _he_ did’ he sobbed, and Hannibal paused in shock. He tried to walk up to Will, but the boy recoiled yelping in pain. He was pressing his little hand to his belly, and Hannibal realized that he was bleeding.

 

‘Will, I’m sorry. I truly am. I didn’t mean that, you know… No harm will ever come to you while you are under my care. You can trust me’.

 

He offered his hand in a comforting gesture, and after a moment’s hesitation, the boy sniffled it warily, giving tentative licks to soothe the strong, powerful alpha. Hannibal sighed, caressing Will’s scruff and realizing just how easily a bit of affection made the boy trust him. The alpha who had raped Will had no doubt realized as much.

 

‘Come’ he said guiding the boy out of the bathroom ‘We’ll go back to your room and I’ll check everything’s OK with your belly. Then I’ll read you the tale I promised, would you like that?’

 

Will nodded and gave a shy smile, and Hannibal took his hand in his and walked him down the corridor. He had thought he would never read Mischa's favourite tale out loud again, but as he stopped in his bedroom to get _The Three Princes and their Beasts_ , Hannibal knew he would love to read it to his little charge. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note to let you all know that I love and cherish *each and every* comment I receive from you ♥ Sadly, I am extremely busy rn, so I prefer to invest whatever little free time I have in writing and updating quickly for you. But I love to read your feedback, actually it encourages me to write faster! :D If you have some ideas/suggestions for this story, it'll be my pleasure to hear them, and maybe I can snag a bit of your inspiration for future chapters! ^=^


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update, yay! :D

Hannibal’s hand didn’t tremble as he chose the cherry tomatoes for lunch. It had been shaking slightly only an hour before, when he had been turning the pages of the old Lithuanian tale, _The Three Princes and their Beasts_. He had never imagined he would read it again, and lest of all, to somebody who wasn’t Mischa. Hannibal still remembered how his little sister would catch her breath when the princess entered the dragon’s lair, but little Will said nothing. He only listened enthralled as Dr. Lecter read the tale, wide eyed under the cozy comforter as his body leaked a bloody discharge.

 

Hannibal had no heat panties or sanitary pads for the boy, so he had improvised a makeshift pad with gauze and cotton. There would still be some blood and discharge after the traumatic cutterage, so Hannibal made a mental note to get Will proper supplies when he returned from the city.

 

When the tale was over the boy said nothing, and Hannibal remembered how Mischa badgered him until he read it again, two or more times in a row.

 

‘Would you like to hear it again?’

 

Will nodded shyly, and Hannibal indulged the boy one more time. He then gave him a painkiller with a sip of orange juice, and told him he would be returning shortly.

 

‘I need to run some errands now, Will. You need to rest so you get well soon. Promise me you won’t leave the bed to curl on the floor’.

 

‘I- I won’t, Dr. Lecter’ the boy said in a little voice ‘I promise’.

 

Hannibal nodded, and as he left the guest bedroom, he was sorely tempted to lock the door. He didn’t in the end, though, fearing the safety measure might trigger some bad memories in the boy.

 

‘Sleep tight, Will. I’ll be back soon’.

 

Will nodded and closed his eyes, and Hannibal got his car keys and went down to the garage.

 

*

 

The street market where Hannibal used to buy fresh, organic groceries made the doctor smile with its lively sounds and smells, and for a while Hannibal forgot about the events of the past hours, picking tomatoes here and berries there. Hannibal bought creamy whole milk and sugar frosting to make cookies later, thinking how much his boy would like them. He also bought his favourite dark chocolate, which he would use to make wonderful brownies for the Sunday morning breakfast.

 

After a short stop at the hospital for supplies, Hannibal drove home, and was satisfied to find the house nice and quiet. True to his word, Will had not left the bed of the guest room, but when Hannibal entered the room, he knew something was wrong. Maybe it was the way the boy smelled or the way he had arranged the pillows around him, but Hannibal walked warily up to him.

 

‘Will?’ he softly said, and when he sat by his side to check on him, Hannibal discovered in shock that the boy was nursing the Japanese _jizô_ figurines that had so far adorned the elegant shelves of the guest room.

 

‘Will!’ Hannibal cried, realizing the boy’s nipples were dribbling omega milk. When he tried to reach out, Will snarled and gave a guttural growl, snapping at him to keep the intruder away from the cozy nest he had built for his imaginary pups.

 

Hannibal frowned and stepped back. He knew better than to approach a litter -imaginary as this was- when he was not the father of the pups, so he sat on the armchair by the bed and considered the situation.  The boy’s young, immature body somehow believed it had given birth, and the hormonal cascade originating this behaviour had no doubt been fuelled by the traumatic pregnancy and surgical procedure the boy had endured the night before.

 

But then, as a psychiatrist, Hannibal needed to assess the emotional factors that had contributed to trigger the boy’s pseudopregnancy. Will hadn’t buried his dead pups yet- actually, he hadn’t even seen them, and despite being the result of a brutal rape, it was obvious that the boy very much wanted his litter. Hannibal recalled that Will had given them names already, and that he wanted them to lie under the rose bushes in the garden. The involuntary lactation had only reinforced Will’s maternal instincts, and there would be no way to separate the boy from his imaginary pups now.

 

‘Frederick’ Hannibal said getting his phone ‘Good morning, I’m sorry to bother you on a Saturday, but I need to ask an… unorthodox favour from you. Yes, I can be there in half an hour. Thank you’.

 

Hannibal hanged up and looked at Will, who had started to hum a lullaby to the Japanese _jizôs_.

 

‘I’ll be back soon’ he muttered, knowing very well the boy was oblivious to his voice. Will would not leave his nest for anything in the world, so Hannibal left the guest room and went down the stairs with a deep frown. He had anticipated a quiet afternoon of reading tales and making cookies for his boy, nursing him back to health with nurturing care and love. But now Hannibal was headed to Dr. Chilton’s house instead- to his _basement_ , to be more precise.

 

‘I’ll see you good and healthy _,_ Will’ Hannibal promised himself as he entered his Bentley ‘And you’ll be a normal boy again soon. I promise’.

 

*

 

‘Well, well. Four pups, you say? From a still birth?’ Frederick raised an amused eyebrow ‘That’s an unorthodox favour indeed, my friend’.

 

‘They must be from an omega child, not even a teenager yet. You know I’ll pay handsomely’.

 

Frederick licked his lips more in curiosity than in anticipation of the generous cheque his old friend will be soon signing.

 

‘And what has prompted this unusual request, I wonder’.

 

Hannibal smiled graciously, and decided to appeal to Frederick’s vanity.

 

‘If you don’t have what I’m looking for, I can always look elsewhere’.

 

‘Haha!’ Chilton laughed ‘You know nobody’s got a better collection than mine. I’ll keep your secret, but it’s going to cost you double’.

 

Hannibal nodded, and followed his friend down to the basement. He had decided he would spare no expense where Will was concerned, and he had already anticipated that Dr. Chilton would ask for an astronomical amount of money. But then, no other… friend of the rarified could help him right now.

 

‘So…’ Frederick said turning on the lights ‘Four pups… still birth… Pre-adolescent omega mother… Hmmm…’

 

Hannibal considered the rows of formaldehyde jars that filled the endless shelves on Frederick’s basement. As a passionate collector of medical curiosities, Dr. Chilton had spent his life collecting freakish specimens from all over the world. There were all sort of organs neatly preserved in his collection, numbered and labeled, from alphas and omegas alike, and the obstetric section was full of dead fetuses, most of them deformed and some with aberrant mutations.

 

Hannibal kept his silence as Frederick worked on his computer checking his records, and after a while he climbed a stair to get a heavy jar from the top shelf of the neonatal section.

 

‘This is the closest I have’ he said carefully leaving the jar on an examination table ‘A litter of six pups, four male and two female, born after the death of a fifteen year old boy in Minnesota’.

 

‘A coffin birth?’ Hannibal asked examining the neatly preserved fetuses.

 

‘Precisely. It’s one of the three cases I have, you know postmortem fetal extrusion is uniquely rare. The other litters are little more than embryos. These, however nonviable, were rather well formed at the moment of birth, or of death. They’re not full term yet, but I think they’ll fit your culinary purposes’.

 

Hannibal considered the six tiny pups, their rosy heads and their closed eyes. They would work perfectly well.

 

‘Thank you, Frederick’ he said with a little smile ‘I’ll send you a bottle of a fifty year old Macallan with the cheque’.

 

‘Please, do’ Frederick smugly smiled ‘And I hope you enjoy your marinade of pups’.

 

Hannibal snorted softly and picked the heavy jar with great care.

 

‘Goodbye, Frederick’.


	7. Chapter 7

‘Will?’ Hannibal softly called as he entered the guest room.

 

The boy was curled on the cozy nest of pillows, protecting the Japanese figurines with his body. A low growl left his throat as Hannibal approached, a fair warning for the alpha to stay away from his imaginary litter.

 

‘Will, I have something important to tell you’ Hannibal said showing him a black lacquered box ‘Your pups are here’.

 

The boy blinked in confusion, and looked warily at the black box the doctor was carrying in his hands. Hannibal made a point of sitting on the rug of the room so that Will would leave his nest, and sure enough, when Will caught the smell of the box he jumped from the bed and came to kneel by Hannibal’s side.

 

‘Remember I told you your litter was still at the hospital? Here it is at last, I brought it home so that we can bury your pups by the roses in the garden’.

 

Will knitted his brow when Hannibal opened the box, and it took him a moment to understand what he was seeing inside. Four tiny pups were cozily nested in the velvet lined box, with a little baby blanket covering them all.

 

‘But- but my pups—’ Will looked back at the bed, where the Japanese _jizôs_ lay sticky with omega milk and sweat.

 

‘These are your pups, Will’ Hannibal murmured lifting the soft white blanket ‘Louise, Toby… How were the others called?’

 

Hannibal watched as the boy considered the small fetuses. He had washed them clean of the formaldehyde and rubbed them with some omega blood and tissue from the delivery room at the hospital, so that Will could recognize them as his own. Hannibal wasn’t sure the trick would work, but at last something seemed to light up in the boy’s eyes.

 

‘Max and… Winston!’ Will cried taking one of the pups and putting it to his breast ‘Why… why… it won’t suck, Dr. Lecter?!’ he asked alarmed.

 

Hannibal sighed and caressed the curls of his boy.

 

‘They’re dead, Will. They died yesterday at the hospital, remember?’

 

The boy shook his head and his eyes filled with tears.

 

‘You couldn’t save them?’ he hiccupped.

 

‘No’ Hannibal said letting out a long exhale ‘I couldn’t save them’.

 

Will started to weep then, caressing the tiny pups and nuzzling them so very gently.

 

‘Take all the time you need, Will. When you’re ready, we’ll bury them with the roses in the garden’.

 

The boy continued crying his heart out, stroking the pups and kissing their cold little bodies. Hannibal knew that the emotional impact of seeing his litter dead would be very hard on Will, but the boy needed closure, even more so as his young body was still anchored in a phantom pregnancy and lactation. The mourning process, together with the synthetic hormones Hannibal had brought from the hospital, would work at different levels to help his body go back to normal, and his mind… Hannibal sighed. The boy would never forget this, it will accompany him for the rest of his life. But Hannibal would make sure Will would grow as unscarred as possible by this trauma. After all, he was the best psychiatrist in Baltimore.

 

*

 

Hour after hour passed, and Will didn’t abandon his pups’ side for a moment. Sometimes he was quiet and silent, other times he cried or muttered unintelligible questions to the tiny babies. He barely sipped a bit of orange juice for lunch, and dozed off out of sheer exhaustion for a fevered little while. When the late hours of the afternoon turned into a dark, clean evening, Hannibal knelt by Will’s side on the rug and held his little hands for comfort.

 

‘Will’ he whispered ‘It’s time’.

 

It surprised Hannibal that the boy nodded. His eyes were red and puffy from crying, and only a while ago he had tried in vain that the pups fed from his swollen nipples. But now a serene lucidity made him look up, and Hannibal was once more awed by the maturity and survival instincts of the boy.

 

‘I know’ he muttered, and he tucked in the little pups under the soft blanket ‘Can we go to the garden now?’

 

Hannibal eyed Will’s tangled curls and soiled pajama, sticky with sweat, omega milk and discharge fluids.

 

‘Let’s get ready first’ he said rubbing old dry tears on the boy's cheeks ‘After a nice bath and fresh clothes we can go to—’

 

‘But Dr. Lecter’ Will sniffled pulling the black lacquered box to his chest ‘I don’t want to leave them alone’.

 

Hannibal sighed and thought for a moment. Then he gestured for Will to follow him down the corridor.

 

‘Look here, Will’ Hannibal said entering his own bedroom and pointing at an old black and white photograph ‘My sister Mischa will continue your wake. What do you say?’

 

Will frowned in mistrust at the little girl in the photograph.

 

‘She was a very sweet omega, and your age when she died’.

 

‘She is dead?’ Will’s frown deepened, and eyed the girl in the picture, with her big dark eyes and blond hair.

 

‘Yes’ Hannibal replied.

 

‘Why did she die, Dr. Lecter?’

 

A knot of emotion tightened Hannibal’s throat, but he managed a little smile at last.

 

‘She was too young to give birth, and her litter died’ Hannibal lied ‘Like yours’.

 

Will remained silent for a long moment, then he whispered in a very little voice:

 

‘Is that why you’re helping me?’

 

Hannibal looked at Mischa and the old, familiar ghosts that walked his memory palace wailed for attention.

 

‘Will you let Mischa take care of your pups while we get ready?’ he said at last, and Will nodded slowly. He gave Dr. Lecter the precious box, which Hannibal placed on the shelf by Mischa’s picture.

 

‘Thank you, _mažytėlis_ _’_ Hannibal whispered, and after a respectful moment of silence, he took the boy to the bathroom.

 

*

 

Will looked very young and fragile in the new clothes Hannibal had bought for him. The warm bath had gone a long way, washing him clean of the stale fluids of the pseudopregnancy, but the bloody discharge still persisted. The boy said nothing when Hannibal handed him the thick heat panties, troubled as he was by far more urgent matters. He barely flinched with the synthetic hormones shot, which would stop the lactation in a couple of days and bring his hormonal system back to normal. Hannibal had been tempted to add a mild sedative to the mix, but he decided against it. He wouldn’t muddle the boy’s experience of the burial with any drug to ease the pain, after all, the memory of this evening would be all Will would have in the future.  

 

‘Dr. Lecter’ Will breathed as he went downstairs with the black box close to his chest ‘I’m worried my pups will be hungry where they go’.

 

Hannibal stopped short in the middle of the corridor and looked at the kid. For a moment he thought that the febrile delusion of thinking his pups were alive had clouded Will’s judgment again, but then he realized that he was just behaving like the child he was.

 

‘You’re right’ he replied thoughtfully ‘Let’s prepare something for their journey’.

 

They moved to the kitchen, and Will sat on a stool at the island as Hannibal opened the pantry.

 

‘Here’ he said gesturing for Will to open his hand ‘There’s almonds, a bit of bread and rice. None of it will spoil, and I’m sure your pups will like them’.

 

Will nodded and opened the lid of the box with great care. He put the food around his dead pups, tucking them in with the soft blanket one final time and sobbing softly.

 

‘Thank you’ he muttered, and Hannibal gently nodded.

 

‘And now’ he said getting a pair of scissors and cutting one of Will’s curly locks ‘We’ll put this lock of hair here, and so they’ll be comforted by your smell’ Hannibal tied the lock to a fragrant stick of cinnamon and placed it over the little blanket ‘So they’ll find their way to you one day’.

 

Will watched the peculiar charm and closed the lid on the box as carefully as he could.

 

‘Did you do the same with your sister’s litter?’ he sniffled.

 

‘Yes’ Hannibal muttered.

 

‘And they’re together now?’

 

‘Of course. And they are happy and know no suffering’.

 

‘How do you know?’ Will whimpered, and Hannibal smiled despite himself.

 

‘I choose to believe it’ he muttered, and got his handkerchief from his pocket to dry Will’s eyes. The boy said nothing, and watched teary eyed as Hannibal nailed the lid of the box with a little hammer. Then they were finally ready to go to the garden.

 

*

 

‘Good night’ was all that Will said as Hannibal buried the box. He had dug a hole in the very same spot where he had found Will hidden a few days ago, right between his beautiful rose bushes.

 

‘Here’ Hannibal said when he was done ‘I cut these roses for your pups. Pink, red and two whites, I’m sorry but I had no green ones’.

 

Will put the roses on the freshly shoveled earth, and watched them unseeingly for a long while. He stood there silent and quiet for almost an hour, and Hannibal let him be, despite the late hour and the chilly night. He wasn’t surprised when Will curled over the little grave and cried himself to sleep, muttering soft words that only his dead pups could understand. Hannibal watched him in silence, but when the clock in the living room struck 11 p.m., he took the boy in his arms and carried him to bed.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guessed that after all that happened to me these years, I needed closure on this story. I hope you enjoy it.

Two weeks had passed and still Will was as sad and silent as he’d been when they’d buried his pups. Hannibal let him be and gave him as much time and space as he needed. Thankfully the synthetic hormones had stopped the pseudo-lactation and imaginary pregnancy instincts, but the boy moved around the house like a veritable ghost. He never failed to spend a full hour every evening by the rose bush, murmuring to his dead pups and to Mischa, as if she were a little Saint that could help his litter in Heaven.

 

The truth was that now that everything had settled down more or less, Hannibal was at a loss about what to do. It was far too early for therapy, that would only cause extreme pain and distress to his little charge. Going to school would be beneficial for Will on many levels, but then the boy couldn’t read or write at the age of twelve. As he sought the best home tutor in town, Hannibal decided to introduce Will to drawing, because either the boy found an outlet for his pent-up emotions or he would never heal.

 

‘Is this… your office, Dr. Lecter?’ Will asked in a little voice, as he had never been allowed to that room in the house.

 

‘Yes, Will. And I want you to have a look at my drawing table. I have always enjoyed drawing, ever since I was a young boy like you’.

 

Will frowned at the collection of pencils, paper sheets and charcoal drawings on the table. There were beautiful buildings that he couldn’t recognize, and shapes of men and women, some of them naked. As he turned the pages, Wil was surprised to find a study of himself sleeping.

 

‘Why… why did you draw me, Dr. Lecter?’

 

‘You looked peaceful and safe in your sleep, and I tried to reflect it the best I could. Those men that came before are installing a drawing table in your room right now, and you will have your own supplies. Pencils, watercolours, temperas… Maybe you’d like to give it a try’.

 

‘But I can’t draw like this’ he said pointing at a magnificent watercolour signed _Hannibal Lecter_.

 

‘You will. In time. I have a feeling you’re artistically talented, and you can choose your own themes’.

 

‘Can I draw you?’ Will asked with all his innocence, and the question, as many others coming from his charge, caught Hannibal off guard.

 

‘Of course’ he replied slowly ‘You can draw whatever you like’.

 

Will gave a faint smile then, the first Hannibal had seen in a long time, and ran up the stairs to see if his drawing table was ready yet.

 

Hannibal stood pensive for a moment, but he felt that he had hit the nail on the head. Will was bursting with creativity and sensibility, and he knew he would be soon seeing his first creations.

 

***

 

‘Hello, Will’ Hannibal said later that afternoon ‘May I come in?’

 

The boy looked upset and angry, sitting with his arms crossed over his chest on a chair well away from the drawing table.

 

‘I just wanted to see some of your drawings’ Hannibal carefully said, and then he saw the paper bin full of torn pages and balls of papers.

 

‘They’re worth shit’ Will grumbled, and Hannibal frowned. He had never heard the boy speak like that, and he would never again.

 

‘Young man, I do not allow that language in my house’.

 

‘I don’t care’ he said turning away from him, and the tears in his eyes betrayed him.

 

Hannibal sighed and knelt down to unwrap a ball of paper from the bin. There were just blots of different colours, like a toddler would draw. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea after all.

 

‘I like this one’ Hannibal said with all the tact and sincerity he could ‘Why don’t you explain what it means to me?’

 

Will sniffled his tears and looked at the watercolor.

 

‘I tried to draw my pups, but I couldn’t’.

 

‘Oh, but I think you succeeded’ Hannibal soothed ‘Each of them has a different colour, just like you wanted with their respective roses. I like your drawing very much’.

 

‘You’re lying!’ Will accused openly crying now, and Hannibal clenched his jaw.

 

‘I never lie, Will. And I’ll place your drawing right by Mischa’s picture so she can look after them. Then I’ll cancel some patients in the afternoons so I have some spare time to teach you how to draw myself. Watercolor is very challenging, yet still you created something beautiful. Thank you’.

 

Will seemed confused, and dried his tears on the back of his sleeve.

 

‘You mean that?’ he sniffled.

 

‘Come with me’ Hannibal said offering the boy his hand, and both returned to the doctor’s office, were Mischa’s picture had the best place over the fireplace. Hannibal moved some figurines away and placed Will’s watercolour by her side.

 

‘See? I’ll have it framed next week. Now all of them are together’.

 

Will’s lower lip trembled for a moment, then he hugged Hannibal tight.

 

‘Thank you Dr. Lecter. Oh, thank you so much’.

 

Hannibal caressed his curls and laid a little kiss on his head.

 

‘You’re most welcome, dear Will. I’m happy Mischa has new friends to play with. But you have to promise something to me’.

 

‘What is it?’ Will whimpered, still overwhelmed by emotion.

 

‘You won’t give up drawing. Or studying. This little head of yours is craving to learn, but the path will be difficult. Know that I’ll be with you at every step of your way. Helping you. Supporting you’.

 

Will nodded, and sat on the rug in front of the fireplace to look at his own work and Mischa’s picture. And Hannibal couldn’t send him away, he just sat on his desk with a soft sigh and continued working on his patients’ assessments.

 

***

 

A week later Will was struggling with the vowels when Hannibal received a letter from the hospital. The boy would be sterile for the rest of his life, very much like Hannibal had feared. It would be a disgrace in the eyes of the Baltimore high society that his mate could bear no pups, but Dr. Lecter’s fame and reputation would allow such an… _oddity_ not to raise too many eyebrows. However, the second report from the hospital was the truly shocking one, as there had been a positive match on the boy’s attacker. It was not an omega rapist or molester, as Hannibal had imagined, but a seemingly nobody who had a police record for trying to steal a car. The idea was so vulgar that it didn’t bear thinking, and for a moment Hannibal couldn’t contain his anger. Maybe Will had been hiding under the car to avoid being picked by the Omega Control Van, and the alpha had destroyed his life forever. There was an address at the bottom of the letter, and Hannibal had little trouble locating it in the city.

 

‘I’ll be returning late tonight, Will’ he informed his ward in a dry tone that the boy had never heard ‘You will have dinner on your own and go to bed’.

 

Will looked up from his drawing scared.

 

‘Is there something wrong, Dr. Lecter? Is it something I have done?’

 

‘On the contrary’ Hannibal tried with a tight smile ‘I have some important business to attend to, that’s all. We’ll talk in the morning’.

 

***

 

Typically Hannibal killed his prey quickly so that its meat would be tender and full of flavor for his meals. But this was not one of his usual liver or kidney necessities. This was revenge, pure and simple. Hannibal wished he could draw the pain and suffering of the car thief for weeks on end- for Mischa, for Will and for himself. But then the human body had its limits, as Hannibal well knew. Unless he took the thief to one of his remote cabins to torture him like a veritable Spanish inquisitor would, this had to end now. And Hannibal refused to be consumed by revenge as he had been in his childhood. However short lived the satisfaction of the thief’s death would be, it had to be now. But in an unbecoming whim, Hannibal set fire to the stinking entrails in the middle of the rudimentary vivisection he was performing. If the howls of the alpha alerted the neighbours, Hannibal was already gone by then. Let the Baltimore police figure this one out.

 

***

 

When Hannibal arrived home, it was well past 4 a.m., and to his surprise, Will was awake.

 

‘Dr. Lecter?’ he called from the middle of the corridor, and ran to hug his savior who was stained with blood, sweat and other fluids.

 

‘I was afraid you had left me’ the boy sniffled, and Hannibal found his way to the boy’s head to caress it in the dark.

 

‘I will _never_ leave you, Will’.

 

‘You promise?’

 

‘I do’.

 

The boy seemed to smell the blood then, and he took a step back in fear.

 

‘What… what has happened?’ he asked in a trembling voice ‘I know… It’s- it’s _him!’_.

 

Hannibal clenched his teeth hard. Of course Will would recognize the smell of his rapist and father of his litter, it was imprinted on his memory from the moment of the claiming, breeding and knotting.

 

‘He’s gone’ Hannibal responded, and headed for the bathroom ‘Go to bed now and back to sleep. It’s very late’.

 

But Will stood there, silent and quiet in the middle of the corridor.

 

‘You killed him’ he whispered, and his voice was strangely calm and steady.

 

It was useless denying the obvious, so Hannibal nodded.

 

‘Yes’.

 

There was a brief pause, then Will asked:

 

‘Did you kill Mischa’s attacker as well?’

 

The old memories flooded Hannibal’s memory palace with sorrow and pain, and he nodded a second time.

 

‘Yes’.

 

Will didn’t speak, and after a short while he returned to his room and closed the door.

 

Hannibal was exhausted, both emotionally and physically, so he entered the bathroom and took a long shower before retiring to his own room.

 

***

 

The next morning, Hannibal found Will finishing breakfast when he entered the kitchen. He rarely overslept, but last night a long due sleep had finally caught up with him. Will said nothing, he simply finished his cereal while Hannibal started to brew a very strong coffee.

 

The morning newspaper was waiting for him at the table, but Hannibal was not interested in reading it. He eyed Will out of the corner of his eye, who was looking down at the cereal bowl in silence.

 

Hannibal was determined not to talk about the issue, and lest of all to justify his actions. He had done what was best for his boy, and if that made him a killer in Will’s eyes, then so be it. He could live with that fear, not with the knowledge that the alpha thief who had raped his child was still at large. But Will’s words, when he spoke, surprised him as they ever did.

 

‘I wanted… wanted to- to say thank you, Dr. Lecter’ he said in a barely audible voice, and Hannibal frowned, confused for a brief moment.

 

‘For what?’

 

‘I had been dreaming about doing it myself. Every night, it was my only dream. For my pups. And now he’s dead and… I don’t know how to feel’.

 

Hannibal realized that this was their first unplanned therapy session, and he chose his next words carefully.

 

‘It’s OK not to know how to feel. You may be angry, confused, sad, all at the same time. There’s nothing wrong about it’.

 

‘But Dr. Lecter I also feel--’ Will clenched his fists ‘Happy. I had imagined his death so many times, in so many ways. So I’m happy, not ashamed. And grateful that you killed him’.

 

Hannibal stood silent for a moment. Oh, but the boy was a diamond in the rough.

 

‘I’m also happy that he’s no longer alive, Will. And I’m proud you feel that way too’.

 

‘Does that make me a monster?’ the boy asked half-scared and half-determined to keep his ground.

 

‘No’ Hannibal replied adamantly ‘I know what monsters are. And he was one of them. Not _you_ , my dear Will’.

 

The boy nodded and left his chair to hug his savior.

 

‘Thank you Dr. Lecter’ he said ‘But I’m afraid you’ll go to jail?’

 

Hannibal chuckled. Even if they found his fingerprints at the site of the murder, he wouldn’t even be interviewed by the police about it.

 

‘Of course not, Will. Remember, I promised I’d never leave you. So don’t worry about anything’.

 

Will beamed at the news and hugged Hannibal even tighter. Then he put his bowl and glass on the sink and washed his hands.

 

‘I’m going to study a little before my morning class’ he said, and Hannibal nodded in relief. This had gone way better than what he could have ever imagined.

 

*

 

EPILOGUE

 

One of the issues Will struggled most with during the next years was finding an appropriate date for his birthday. He didn’t know when he had been born, and at first he wanted to celebrate it the day his savior had found him by the rose bush. But then Will spent many months burdened with the belief that he was just a substitute for Mischa, so since that day had been her birthday, Will refused to celebrate his then.

 

One day, it occurred to him in one of the therapy sessions that he could celebrate his birthday on the day Dr. Lecter had killed his rapist, but he didn’t want a happy party to be linked with that foul memory. In the end, Will settled for the day when he had drawn his first watercolour, the blotted paper that Hannibal had framed and which still stood by Mischa’s picture on the fireplace.

 

Today Will was celebrating his fifteenth birthday, and what a long way he had come. These three years with Dr. Lecter hadn’t been easy for a number of reasons -especially the home tutoring sessions, and then going to a proper school and being grounded for not doing his homework and loosing his drawing privileges when he backtalked- but then Will was just behaving just like any other teenager would. Which was the best measure of how much he had healed already.

 

There were still nightmares and several signs of his PTSD, of course, terrible memories and the continuous visiting to the rose bush where his pups were buried. But the trauma would tear him apart forever, and nothing would ever cure it. The best Hannibal could hope for was an amelioration of his symptoms, and luckily the boy was still young and had years to go. Which was, up to some extent, a hopeful perspective.

 

Will drew wonderfully now, and the time he spent during the weekends volunteering on the dog shelter had brought out the best of him- his sensitivity, compassion and empathy. However, an unexpected and completely shocking development of his darker side had also taken place, slowly, but relentlessly.

 

The first time Hannibal had been completely unaware that his young ward was following him, but once he had ripped the alpha’s thorax open and was about to surgically extract the liver, Will emerged from the shadows of the luxurious living room, proverbially catching Hannibal red handed.

 

The boy was breathing heavily, cheeks flushed and forehead sweaty. He only needed to dip his hands into the blood to paint his face red as if he were a veritable angel of revenge.

 

‘Come here, Will’ Hannibal said conversationally, and taught his boy his first lesson in vivisection just as he had taught Will how to paint with temperas. Will ended up beautifully soaked in blood, and Hannibal wished he could draw him like this. He had a custom made plastic suit like his made for the boy for the next _lesson_ , and they hunted alphas together ever since.

 

They rarely talked about it, but soon Will was getting more and more skilled at removing alpha’s organs. His favourite part was slicing them open, and when his technique had improved enough, Hannibal always let him do it.

 

‘They will never come back’ Hannibal said one quiet evening while sitting in his office ‘Your pups, you know. No matter how many alphas you kill’.

 

‘I know’ Will replied looking out the window ‘But they’ll scream less in my belly’.

 

Hannibal said nothing, and looked at his beloved sister’s portrait. She had stopped screaming a long time ago, so maybe Will would also get peace one day.

 


End file.
